UC-NRLF 


B    3    3M2    072 


Cfjree 


Three  Plays 


BY 


Bernard  Sobel 


THE  POET  LORE  COMPANY 

THE  GORHAM  PRESS 
BOSTON 


Copyright  1913  by  Richard  G.  Badger 


All  Rights  Reserved 


The  Gorham  Press,  Boston,  U.  S.  A. 


34646G 


.5 

"7s- 


7Z? 
Lorraine  Sobel 

A 


CONTENTS 

I                               Page 
Jennie  Knows  - 9 

II 
Mrs.  Bompton's  Dinner  Party  33 

III 

There's  Always  a  Reason 65 


JENNIE  KNOWS 


CASTE 
MARY  FOSTER 
HUGH  FOSTER,  her  father 
BOB  RAGLAN,  her  admirer 
BUCKNER  PACKINGTON  (a  renowned  pianist) 
JENNIE  KITMAN,  a  musical  enthusiast 
ROSE  WEBER,  her  friend,  who  is  socially  someone 
AGATHA  BAKER,  who  is  up  in  art 
CARRIE  BUDD,  an  amateur  poet 
LYDIA  BUDD,  another  musical  enthusiast 


JENNIE  KNOWS 

Scene:  Drawing  room  in  the  Foster  home.  The 
room  is  attractive  because  of  its  air  of  sim 
plicity  and  culture.  At  the  rear  there  is  a 
comfortable  window  seat  which  is  at  the  foot 
of  a  short  flight  of  stairs.  A  parlor  grand 
piano  stands  at  the  left.  The  general  en 
trance  is  in  the  further  corner  at  the  left. 

Curtain  rises  disclosing  MARY  FOSTER.  She 
walks  to  front  of  room  with  a  roll  of  manuscript 
which  she  unwraps  and  then  studies  carefully. 
After  a  moment,  she  takes  out  her  handkerchief 
and  weeps  softly. 

Enter  MR.  FOSTER. 

[He  looks  around,  sees  ...MARY  weeping, 
notices  the  manuscripts  lying  on  the  floor, 
and  then  shakes  his  head  sadly.  Then  he 
walks  over  to  her  and  gently  places  his 
hand  on  her  head.] 

FOSTER.     What's  the  matter,  my  little  girl— 

you're  not  crying  are  you?    You're  not  crying? 

MARY.     [After  a  moment  she  looks  up,  smiles 

and  says]  Yes  father,  I  am.    I'm  foolish,  I  know. 

11 


12  JENNIE  KNOWS 

I  ought  to  be  accustomed  to  rejected  manuscripts 
by  this  time,  don't  you  think  so? 

FOSTER.  Perhaps  some  day  my  dear,  you'll 
be  successful  and— 

MARY.  No  don't  make  yourself  say  that. 
You've  lost  confidence  in  me  too,  like  all  the 
rest.  I  guess  Jennie  Kitman  has  been  right 
about  me  all  this  time.  I  can't  write  real  good 
music,  and  never  will  be  able  to. 

FOSTER.  I  hate  to  think  that  she  could  be 
right. 

MARY.  [With  spirit]  And  I  do  too,  but — 
well  things  seem  to  be  coming  out  as  she  said. 
Manuscripts  coming  back  all  the  time.  Nothing 
but  failure.  Why,  I'm  even  beginning  to  lose 
confidence  in  myself. 

FOSTER.  My  poor  little  girl.  If  you  could 
only  make  up  your  mind  not  to  be  so  ambitious 
—if  you  could  only  think  of  Bob  a  little, — the 
poor  chap. 

MARY.  There  now,  father,  please  don't  talk 
of  Bob.  It  hurts  my  pride.  I  just  can't  think 
of  it.  But  here  I  am  thinking  of  myself  only, 
and  not  of  you.  Aren't  you  about  ready  for 
your  afterdinner  nap?  Don't  you  want  to  sit 
in  the  armchair  awhile?  [She  begins  to  lead 
him  to  the  chair.] 

FOSTER.     Really  Mary,  I'm  not  sleepy  at  all. 


JENNIE  KNOWS  13 

Not  the  least  bit.  Well,  have  your  way  my  child. 
[He  sits  down  protesting.  Mary  kisses  his 
forehead,  runs  to  rear  of  stage,  goes  to 
window,  arranges  curtains,  and  by  this 
time  FOSTER  is  sound  asleep.  Mary 
picks  up  the  manuscripts  slowly,  lays  them 
on  the  piano,  finally  places  her  hands  on 
the  keys,  as  if  to  play,  and  then,  discon 
solate,  buries  her  head  in  her  hands,  and 
sits  there  silent-] 
Enter  BOB. 

[He  looks  around,  sees  FOSTER  and  MART 
apparently    asleep.      Laughs,    in    panto- 
mine,  and  then  turns  around  and  knocks 
gently  on  the  wall.     MARY  looks  up  as 
BOB  runs  over  to  the  piano.] 
MARY.     Please  Bob, — please  go  home,  you're 
the  last  person  in  the  world  I  want  to  see.     Do 
please  go  home. 

BOB.     Gee,  you're  hospitable. 
MARY.     Don't  joke,  Bob,  I  mean  it. 
BOB.     Honestly,  can't  I  stay?    Not  even  if  I 
have  some  great  news  to  tell  you? 

MARY.  [Sadly]  I'm  not  interested  in  any 
news. 

BOB-  But  this  news — why  [at  a  loss]  oh,  I 
know.  It's  your  compositions, — they've  been 
rejected. 


14  JENNIE  KNOWS 

MARY.  You're  quite  right.  Everybody  seems 
to  know  but  I.  You  and  Miss  Kitman  and — 

BOB.  That's  not  fair,  Mary — I  didn't  mean 
that. 

MARY.  Of  course  you  didn't.  It's  just  my 
foolish  mood.  Please  forgive  me  for  being  un 
kind. 

BOB.  Forgive  you — why,  Mary,  [she  makes 
a  protesting  gesture  as  he  rushes  toward  her] 
I  Ve  just  got  to  say  it — for  the  hundredth  time — 

MARY.     Bob  don't — 

BOB.     Won't  you  please  marry  me? 

MARY.     No,  I  cannot — 

BOB.  But  you  said  you  might  be  able  to 
love — 

MARY.  Bob  you  cannot  marry  a  failure.  It 
would  ruin  your  life,  and  only  make  me  un 
happy.  Don't  you  understand?  Why  I  can 
see  how  it  all  would  be.  You  would  go  on  in 
the  sarile  dear  way,  trying  to  persuade  me  and 
yourself  that  I'm  a  real  composer  who  has  done 
worthy  things  and  proved  my  right  to  live.  But 
all  the  time  your  mind  would  be  saying  "She's 
a  failure,  she's  a  failure,  poor  thing."  And 
before  long — oh,  I  hate  to  think  of  it — your 
love  would  turn  to  pity  and  I  couldn't  stand 
that,  I  couldn't. 

BOB.     But  you're  not  a  failure,  at  least  you 


JENNIE  KNOWS  15 

have  not  had  a  chance  to  prove  even  that.  It's 
just  been  lack  of  influence — pull — .  You  can't 
do  even  great  things  nowadays  without  a  pull. 

MARY.  I  just  can't  make  myself  believe  that. 
Jennie  Kitman  says — 

BOB.  Damn  Jennie  Kitman  and  her  whole 
crowd.  She's  the  one  that's  taken  all  the  con 
fidence  out  of  you.  She's  the  one,  I  tell  you. 

MARY.  But  she  knows.  For  years  she  has 
represented  the  best  artistic  influence  in  the  city. 
What  would  the  town  be  if  it  were  not  for  Jennie 
Kitman,  Carrie  Budd  and  a  few  others?  She's 
"up"  in  everything,  and  if  she  says  I  don't 
know  how  to  write  music,  and  the  publishers 
show  the  same  attitude,  well — she  must  be  right. 

BOB.  Fiddlesticks!  In  the  first  place,  she 
hasn't  any  soul  for  music,  and  so  she's  not  cap 
able  of  judging  it.  Then  she's  jealous  of  you — 

MARY-     Of  me? 

BOB.  Most  certainly.  That's  not  surprising. 
You  might  just  happen  to  cast  her  off  her 
throne.  Oh  I  know  these  intellectual  fourflush- 
ers  and  conventional  highbrows.  Personal 
aggrandizement  at  the  expense  of  eternal  art. 
They  haven't  an  honest  idea  in  their  souls — and 
I  tell  you  right  here  I  know  more  about  art  than 
Jennie  Kitman,  Carrie  Budd,  Rose  Weber,  and 
the  whole  bunch  put  together. 


16  JENNIE  KNOWS 

MARY.     You ! 

BOB.  Yes,  I;  and  I've  arranged  to  prove  it. 
Come  here  [in  his  intensity,  he  drags  Mary  half 
across  the  stage]  I'll  explain.  [He  takes  out 
his  watch]  The  world  renowned  pianist,  Buck- 
ner  Packington,  will  be  here  within  half  an  hour. 

MARY.     [ Aghast  ]   Here ! 

BOB.  Right  in  this  room.  He's  coming  here. 
The  great  pianist  himself,  and  not  his  under 
study.  And  I'm  bringing  him  here.  Do  you 
realize  the  significance  of  this? 

MARY.  Realize.  I  can't  realize  anything.^ 
What  pray,  are  you  talking  about? 

BOB.  You  see  his  real  name's  not  Buckner 
Packington,  but  Packington  Schmitt. 

MARY.  Not  the  wonderful  Schmitt  whom 
you  told  me  so  much  about — the  one  who  went 
to  college  with  you? 

BOB.  Exactly.  He  calls  me  "Bobby"  and 
I  call  him  "Packie" — old  nicknames.  We  were 
in  the  same  class,  the  same  fraternity  and  every 
thing  else  the  same. 

MARY.  [Not  heeding  him]  And  now  he  is  the 
great  artist  Packington.  Oh,  I  envy  you,  for 
even  knowing  him. 

BOB.  You  '11  know  him  too,  in  less  than  twenty 
minutes,  for  he  is  coming  here. 

MARY.     Why? 


JENNIE  KNOWS  17 

BOB.  Simply  to  help  a  friend  out.  He's 
going  to  help  me  prove  that  I  know  something 
about  musical  compositions, — yours  in  particu 
lar.  He's  going  to  look  them  over. 

MARY-     Oh,  I'm  afraid. 

BOB.  Don't,  little  girl,  don't  be  afraid.  Be 
brave  and  believe  in  what  you've  done.  He's 
human,  sympathetic  and  kind,  like  all  really 
great  artists.  It's  only  the  lesser  lights  that 
have  to  impress  their  importance  on  a  timid 
world.  Now,  when  Packington  comes  you'll 
find  him  charming.  Why  he  likes  to  see  other 
people's  ability.  He's  open  to  argument  and 
opinions  and — gee — I've  got  a  plan — hurrah! 
[He  jumps  around]  I've  got  a  plan! 

MARY.     For  mercy's  sake,  Bob,  what  is  it? 

BOB.  We  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone.  We'll 
have  him  pass  on  the  merits  of  your  music  and 
your  friends  at  the  same  time.  Miss  Jennie  K. 
— and  the  rest. 

MARY.  You're  not  going  to  make  him  meet 
them  too? 

BOB.  You've  guessed  it.  We'll  invite  them 
over  here  to  listen  to  him  play  and  then — 

MARY.     How  fine!     But  will  he  consent? 

BOB.  Indeed  he  will.  Why  he  calls  me 
"Bobby"  I  say,  and  I  call  him  "Packie". 


18  JENNIE  KNOWS 

MARY.  [Not  heeding  him]  How  grand  it  will 
sound.  I'll  be  so  proud.  Miss  Jennie  Kitman, 
I  would  like  to  have  you  come  over  for  an  in 
formal  recital  to  be  given  by  my  friend,  Pack- 
ington,  the  pianist. 

BOB.  Not  so  fast,  my  young  lady.  You'll 
introduce  him  as  Schmitt,  and  we'll  just  see  if 
your  highbrow  friends  can  discover  this  genius 
for  themselves. 

MARY.     That  wont  be  fair. 

BOB.  Yes  it  will.  Furthermore,  its  more  of 
a  tribute  to  their  critical  powers, — they're  all 
so  strong  on  your  delinquencies. 

MARY.     But,  Bob — 

BOB.     Now  don't  argue,  little  lady. 

[Mr.  Foster  snores  violently.] 

MARY.  Father !  What  shall  we  do  with  him  ? 
I  hate  to  disturb  his  nap.  [Bob  rushes  up  and 
puts  a  screen  in  front  of  him-] 

BOB.  Screen  him  off.  He'll  never  hear  a 
thing. 

MARY.  No  he  won't,  the  dear.  He  sleeps  so 
soundly.  And  when  he  gets  up  he'll  say  he 
hasn't  slept  a  wink. 

BOB.  [Rushes  toward  her  and  tries  to  em 
brace  her,  saying]  Do  you  think  you  can  ever 
be  persuaded,  my  dear,  to  know  how  much  all 
this  means  to  me?  There — 


JENNIE  KNOWS  19 

[The  Bell  rings.] 

BOB.     Packington ! 

MARY.  The  great  pianist.  [She  hastily  ar 
ranges  her  hair.] 

[Enter  Pack.     He  rushes  up  to  Bob  and 
says  "Bobbie".] 

BOB.  Packie!  [They  shake]  [Mary  stands 
tremulous  and  waiting.] 

BOB.  [Presenting  her]  Miss  Foster.  You've 
heard  me  mention  her. 

PACK.  In  every  letter.  So  this  is  the  little 
composer. 

BOB.  [Gesticulating,  with  finger  on  lips.] 
Sh! 

MARY.  I'm  so  proud  to  meet  you  and  I'll 
try  not  to  be  afraid  of  you.  Bob's  been  coach 
ing  me  how  to  act. 

PACK.  [Laughs  heartily]  Well,  I  declare! 
Well,  I  declare!  It's  a  pleasure  to  meet  any 
one  whom  Bob  thinks  so  much  of.  As  for  the 
music,  I  can  scarcely  wait  to  see  it.  I  feel  as 
though  I  were  about  to — 

MARY.     Oh,  please  don't  Mr.  Packington. 

BOB.  Say — ah — why — we've  changed  the 
plan  somewhat,  Packie,  if  you  don't  mind  and— 

MARY.  Oh,  but  I'm  sure  he  will,  that  is,  I 
fear  he  might — 


20  JENNIE  KNOWS 

PACK.  Don't  worry  about  me — if  it's  some 
thing  to  give  you  people  pleasure,  I  'm  game ! 

MARY.     [Somewhat  shocked]    Game! 

BOB.  [In  triumph]  There.  Didn't  I  tell  you? 
Isn't  he  just  a  peach?  Now  you  go  out  and  call 
up  Miss  Jennie  and  the  rest  of  that  bunch,  while 
I  explain  matters  to  Packie. 

PACK.  Everything's  all  right  then?  Good! 
Good!  Now  I  must  tell  you  my  plans.  I've 
only  one  condition  to  make,  that  I  may  go  as  soon 
as  I've  run  through  the  music,  as  I  must  be 
back  in  the  city.  The  usual  engagements  with 
managers.  You  understand  ? 

BOB.  Very  well.  Good,  [to  Mary]  I'll  take 
him  up  stairs  to  brush  up ;  so  he  '11  be  at  his  best 
in  honor  of  Miss  Jennie.  [He  leads  Pack,  up 
stairs,  talking  all  the  while}  It's  in  honor  of 
these  intellectual  fourflushers.  You're  to  play 
for  them  you  see  and  we  hit  on  a  plan  whereby, 
etc.  [Meanwhile  Mary  has  been  watching  them, 
filled  with  wonder.  She  glides  around  the  room, 
humming  softly.  Then  she  goes  to  the  tele 
phone.] 

MARY.  Oakland  17  double  5.  Oakland  17 
double  5.  [after  a  moment]  Busy?  Call  me 
please,  central.  [She  goes  to  the  piano,  strikes 
several  chords  and  then  leaves  piano.  Goes  to 
manuscripts,  sorts  them  quickly,  and  arranges 


JENNIE  KNOWS  21 

them  on  piano.  Then  telephones  again.]  Oakland, 
17  double  5— hello.  Miss  Jennie  Kitman.  This 
is  Mary  at  the  'phone.  I  want  you  to  come  over 
at  once,  for  a  little  musical.  You  can't?  Why? 
Omar  Khyayam  and  mysticism  in  Holland — oh 
— But  can't  you  study  that  some  other  night? 
This  is  so  important,  please  come. — Yes,  I  want 
your  opinion, — your  critical  opinion.  Oh,  you 
think  you  can,  I'm  so  glad.  You  see,  one  of  my 
friends,  Mr.  Schmitt,  a  pianist,  has  just  come 
down  from  Chicago.  I'm  so  anxious  to  have 
you  hear  him  play,  for  I  want  your  critical 
opinion  of  him — Yes,  yours — in  particular.  Oh 
how  good  of  you.  Come  just  as  you  are,  and 
right  away — in  your  car.  It's  informal,  no  one 
besides  you,  Carrie  Budd,  Rose  Weber,  May, 
and  a  few  others.  Good-bye  and  hurry.  [She 
takes  up  the  telephone  book,  looks  for  a  num 
ber,  and  then  rings  again.]  1915,  please. 
Yes,  central.  Please  call  Miss  Budd  to  the 
'phone.  Either  one.  Hello  Yes,  fine.  Why, 
I  want  you  and  your  sister  to  come  over  this 
evening  for  a  little  informal  musical  by  Schmitt, 
a  friend  of  mine  who  has  just  come  down  from 
Chicago.  You  can't?  Oh,  I  wish  you  could. 
Jennie's  coming.  Yes,  Jennie  Kitman.  Oh, 
you'll  come?  All  right.  Don't  dress  up.  Oh, 
don't  mention  it.  Glad  to  have  you.  [She  is 


22  JENNIE  KNOWS 

about  to  hang  up  the  receiver,  but  instead 
speaks]  What's  that?  Oh,  Miss  Weber's  there? 
Will  you  call  her  to  the  'phone  ?  Yes,  do.  [ After 
a  moment]  Hello.  I  was  just  going  to  call  you 
up.  I  want  you  too.  Certainly,  and  if  it  isn't 
too  much  trouble,  will  you  please  pick  up  Agnes 
Baker?  Tell  her  I'm  giving  an  informal  recital 
for  one  of  my  friends,  Mr.  Schmitt,  a  pianist 
and  I  want  all  you  people  to  hear  him.  Just  an 
unexpected  visit.  Yes,  explain  that  I  was  too 
rushed  to  call  her  up.  Thanks.  Good-bye.  [She 
leaves  the  telephone  and  starts  to  arrange  the 
chairs  and  screen.] 

BOB.     [Running  down  stairs]  Have  you  called 
up  Jennie? 

MARY.     Yes,  and  the  others  too. 

BOB.     Are  they  coming? 

MARY.     At  once.    They  '11  be  here  any  moment. 

BOB.     Well,  let's  arrange  the  chairs  in  con 
cert  hall  fashion.     We'll  just  seat  Jennie  here; 
so  she  can  see  to  advantage.    Seeing  is  believing, 
you  know.    No,  that  chair  wont  be  comfortable. 
Take   this   one.       Here   and — [The   automobile 
horn  is  heard  and  bell  rings  a  second  later.] 
[Enter  Jennie  and  Miss  Baker-    Bob  returns 
up  stage.     All  talking  at  once.] 

JENNIE.     [To  MARY.]   Yes  dear,  we  managed 
to  get  here.    Such  a  rush.    I  hated  to  leave  my 


JENNIE  KNOWS  23 

books,  for  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  dear,  I 
haven't  a  great  deal  of  confidence  in  your  musi 
cal  opinion. 

MARY.     [Meekly]   Yes,  I  know,  Miss  Jennie. 

JENNIE.  [Rather  hastily]  Tell  me,  ah,  did 
this  pianist  of  yours  bring  along  any  press 
notices?  If  he  did,  I  should  like  very  much  to 
see  them. 

MARY.  No.  He  came  unexpectedly  as  I  said, 
and — 

JENNIE.  Oh,  it's  just  as  well.  Merely  a  for 
mality  anyway,  you  know,  merely  a  formality. 
[They  talk  and  motion  toward  the  piano,  pic 
tures  and  books]  [Calling  BOB,  who  has  crept 
over  to  the  window  seat  and  sat  down]  Say  Bob, 
[taking  him  aside]  Can  you  tell  me  who  this 
pianist  is  socially  ? 

BOB.     Who  was  Beethoven  socially? 

JENNIE.  Well,  I  declare,  I've  forgotten.  I 
must  look  that  up  in  my  musical  encyclopedia. 
Miss  Baker,  can  you  tell  me  who  the — 

[The  door  bell  rings  again,  and  the  Misses 
Budd  and  Miss  Weber  enter-     They  ex 
change  greetings  and  talk.] 

JENNIE.  [At  length]  Is  he  here  yet  Mary,  or 
is  he  going  to  keep  me  waiting.  I  despise  being 
made  to  wait  you  know. 


24  JENNIE  KNOWS 

MARY.  Oh,  he'll  be  here  in  just  a  moment. 
[She  stops  as  she  sees  Packington  coming  down 
the  steps.]  There  he  is  now. 

ALL.  The  pianist.  Do  you  see  him?  There 
he  is. 

[PACK.  Descends,  and  BOB  and  MARY  pre 
sent  him  to  the  guests.] 

Miss  BAKER.     Charmed,  I'm  sure. 

Miss  BUDD-  How  do  you  do.  Do  you  happen 
to  know  Mr.  Paderewski?  He's  a  great  friend 
of  my  cousin's. 

Miss  EMILY.  [Breaking  in]  I'm  looking  for 
ward  to  hearing  you  play.  If  I  may,  later,  I'm 
going  to  ask  you  to  play  one  of  my  favorite  se 
lections. 

Miss  JENNIE.     How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Schmitt. 

Miss  WEBER.  [Gushingly  shakes  hands  with 
PACK,  who  then  ivalks  over  to  MARY  and  talks 
aside  to  her.] 

Miss  JENNIE.  [To  Miss  WEBER]  How  ordin 
ary  he  looks  doesn't  he? 

Miss  WEBER.  Yes  indeed,  quite  bourgeois. 
[they  talk.] 

PACK.  [To  MARY]  Now,  I'm  not  going  to 
keep  you  in  suspense  long,  my  little  composer. 
If  the  work  seems  to  me  to  have  no  merit,  I  shan  't 
play  but  a  page  or  two,  but  if  it  is  promising 
and  worth  while,  I'll  play  it  to  the  last  note. 


JENNIE  KNOWS  25 

MARY,  Thanks,  so  much.  [She  takes  his 
hand  a  moment.] 

Miss  BAKER.  [To  Miss  WEBER]  Did  you  see 
that?  She  held  his  hand.  I  declare  it's  not  the 
proper  thing  at  all.  She  thinks  that's  Bohemian, 
but  I  think  it's  scandalous.  Two  strange  men, 
a  lot  of  helpless  women  and  no  chaperone. 
Where's  her  father,  I  wonder;  that's  what  I'd 
like  to  know.  He  ought  to  look  after  such  tak 
ings  on.  [They  all  talk.] 

PACK.  Now  don't  worry  about  me,  nor  the 
audience.  I'll  forget  they're  here.  If  I  once 
get  interested  cannon  balls  wont  disturb  me. 
[He  sits  down  to  the  piano  and  begins  to  arrange 
the  music.] 

BOB-  [To  Miss  JENNIE]  Where  will  you  sit, 
here  or  here? 

JENNIE.  Why,  if  you  don't  mind,  I'll  take 
this  chair,  and  if  you  please,  turn  the  piano 
this  way  somewhat;  so  I  can  watch  his  hands. 
You  know,  [to  the  others]  I  place  great  empha 
sis  on  the  position  of  the  hands.  [MARY  aghast. 
The  guests  take  chairs.  PACK,  and  BOB  move 
the  piano  a  little.  PACK,  sits  down  again.] 
Beedowsky  and  Chacon  in  relative  manual  dex 
terity  excel  in  the  staccato. 

Miss  WEBER.  [Grandly]  So  I've  noticed. 
[all  murmur  until  PACK,  begins  to  play  which  he 


26  JENNIE  KNOWS 

does  beautifully.  For  about  three  minutes  all 
is  silenty  then  to  MARY'S  consternation  and  BOB'S 
amusement,  everyone  begins  to  talk,  fan  nois 
ily  and  move  her  chair,  regardless  of  the 
music.] 

JENNIE.  Say,  Miss  AGNES,  speaking  of  real 
music,  have  you  heard  the  Symphony  Orchestra 
this  season? 

Miss  WEBER.  [Drawing  up  her  chair  to  JEN 
NIE,  placing  the  back  slightly  toward  the  piano] 
No,  I  haven't.  I've  been  devoting  all  my  time 
to  symbolism  and  Maeterlinck.  I  find  them  so 
beautiful,  especially  "Joyzelle".  Have  you 
found  that  there  is  a  wealth  of— 

Miss  BAKE^.  [Draiving  up  her  chair]  Pardon 
me,  ladies,  but  I  consider  the  absence  of  a  chaper- 
one  a  personal  affront,  don't  you? 

JENNIE.     Well,  why  don 't  you  say  something  ? 

Miss  BAKER.  Why,  oh — ah — I  hate  to  [hast 
ily]  I  was  going  to  ask  you,  JENNIE.  Did  you 
hear  Mildred  Banky's  concert  last  Wednesday? 
Wasn't  it  wonderful? 

JENNIE.  It  may  have  been  that,  but  it  made 
me  most  unhappy.  All  I  could  think  of  was 
that  low  cut  gown  she  wore.  Oh !  It  was  low. 
[all  talk  at  once  for  a  while  and  draw  up  their 
chairs.] 


JENNIE  KNOWS  27 

Miss  WEBER.  What's  that  composition  he's 
playing,  Jennie? 

JENNIE.  [At  a  loss]  Why,  it's  either  Wagner 
or  Mozart.  Really  I'm  lost  without  a  program. 
BOB/  [He  rushes  up,  quietly]  Find  out  for 
me  whether  that's  a  Mozart  or  Wagner  number. 
[BOB  rushes  across  to  MARY  and  whispers.] 

BOB.  She  wants  to  know  whether  he's  play 
ing  Wagner  or  Mozart.  [MARY  motions  him 
sternly  aivay,  and  resumes  her  air  of  rapt  at 
tention.] 

[JENNIE  resumes  critical,  listening  air  for 
a  few  minutes.  The  piano  stops  a  second,  and 
JENNIE  holds  up  her  hands  to  give  signal  for  ap 
plause.  All  applaud,  but  piano  sto**s  again  and 
there  is  a  temporary  confusion.  Mr.  Foster 
snores  loudly,  and  JENNIE  says  with  contempt.] 

JENNIE.     What  sonority. 

Miss  WEBER,  [draws  up  close  to  Miss  JEN 
NIE  and  says  confidentially.]  JENNIE,,  what  do 
you  think  of  the  pianist? 

JENNIE.  Confidentially,  not  much.  No  tech 
nique,  no  style,  no  verve,  no — ah  nothing. 
Oh — I  'm  so  tired  of  hearing  poor  and  indifferent 
pianists.  If  I  could  only  arrange  to  hear  the 
great  Packington.  The  papers  are  full  of  praise 
for  him.  Why,  I'd  walk  ten  miles  to  hear  Pack 
ington —  [at  this  point  PACK,  plays  a  brilliant 


28  JENNIE   KNOWS 

melodious  run  and  JENNIE  shudderingly  says] 
Wasn't  that  awful?  Oh,  I  flatter  myself  [she 
continues  while  the  others  in  pantomime,  pass 
on  her  confidential  opinions]  I  know  what  good 
music  is.  And  I  can  tell  in  a  moment  whether 
music  is  good  or  bad.  I  loathe  ordinary  dance 
music.  Well — it's  all  right  for  drawing  a  cir 
cus  crowd,  but  otherwise,  ugh — it  positively 
makes  me  ill.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  the  kind  of 
music  I  adore.  Symphonies  and  overtures.  All 
kinds  of  technique,  but  an  entire  absence  of 
melody.  You  see,  I  don't  hesitate  to  tell  you 
what  I  think.  I'm  independent,  not  like  some 
people  I  know.  They  go  to  the  concert  in  the 
evening  and  you  ask  them  how  they  like  it,  but 
you  can't  get  a  word  out  of  them.  No  indeed; 
not  yet.  They  wait  till  the  criticism  comes  out 
in  the  morning  paper,  and  then  they  talk,  oh 
yes,  then  they  talk.  But  I'm  independent  and 
as  for  praise — well,  if  there  must  be  any,  I  con 
trive  to  make  it  negative  in  character. 
ALL.  Yes,  yes,  of  course,  [they  talk.] 
Miss  WEBER.  Miss  BAKER,  if  you  feel  tha* 
way  about  the  chaperone — 

Miss  BUDD.  Yes,  if  you  feel  that  way,  wny 
don 't  you  tell  her  so  ?  I  'm  sure  it 's  your  place 
to  do  so,  and  at  once.  I  'm  sure  it 's  a  disgrace — 
no  sign  of  a  chaperone. 


JENNIE  KNOWS  29 

Miss  LYDIA  BUDD.  Yes — get  up  and  tell  her 
at  once  that  you  think  her  father  ought  to  know. 

Miss  BAKER.  [Rising  nervously  and  edging 
back  toward  screen]  Ah,  I  don't  know  if  I  ought 
to.  You  see  her  father  is  always  alert  and  wide 
awake  and  for  this  reason,  I  don 't  think  he  ought 
to  be  exposed — [she  knocks  over  the  screen,  ex 
posing  Mr.  Foster  still  asleep.  General  confusion 
in  the  midst  of  which  Miss  BAKER  says — ]  Let's 
go  home.  [All  acquiesce,  Miss  KITMAN  lead 
ing]  Yes,  let's  go  home.  Let's  go  home. 
[Meanwhile  Packington  closes  piano  and  shakes 
hands  with  MARY  and  BOB  steps  forward  and 
says] 

BOB.  That's  all  right.  Don't  mind  the  screen. 
I  trust  you  ladies  will  forgive  me  for  not  tell 
ing  you  the  real  identity  of  our  guest,  but  I  wish 
to  introduce  him  to  you  now,  under  his  real 
name.  Ladies  meet  Mr.  Buckner  Packington — 

ALL.     Packington !     [They  all  look  at  Jennie.] 

JENNIE.  [After  a  moment]  Didn't  I  tell  you? 
/  knew  it  all  the  time. 

ALL.    Why,  Miss  KITMAN. 

JENNIE.  [Savagely]  Well,  what  are  you  wait 
ing  for!  I  thought  we  were  going  home.  [They 
all  rush  out  regardless  of  eitquette  or  anything 
else,  while  BOB  laughs.] 


30  JENNIE  KNOWS 

PACK.  Well,  young  people,  now  I  must  be 
going,  and  the  music — ah,  my  little  girl,  [he 
walks  over  to  her]  it's  worthy  and  beautiful. 
I  am  proud  of  you. — I'll  take  it  along  with  me 
and  see  what  I  can  do  about  it.  Ah,  it  is  late, 
I  must  go.  Goodbye,  young  people. 

BOB.     Goodbye,  and  thanks — Packie — 

MARY.  [Speechless,  takes  both  his  hands  in 
her  own  for  a  moment.] 

PACK.     [As  he  goes]  Goodbye. 

MARY.     Ah — I'm  so  happy,  so  very  happy. 

BOB.  It  is  I  who  must  be  unhappy  now,  for 
I  never  would  dare  ask  a  great  composer  to 
tf.arry  me. 

MARY.  Ah,  yes,  but  you  discovered  me — and 
well  [laughing]  at  least  you're  near  great. 

BOB.  Let's  tell  father.  [He  takes  MARY  over 
to  MR.  FOSTER,  whom  he  taps  on  the  shoulder.} 

FOSTER.  [Rising}  No,  I  never  slept  a  wink — 
I  was  just  resting. 

BOB.     Give  us  your  blessing,  father. 

FOSTER.  Well  [astonished}  why,  ah,  certainly 
—bless  you,  my  children,  bless  you.  [They  walk 
up  stage  in  each  other's  arms.] 

FOSTER.  [Scratching  his  head]  I  wonder  if 
I  could  have  been  sleeping,  after  all 

Curtain 


MRS.  BOMPTON'S 
DINNER  PARTY 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 
MRS.  BOMPTON 
BARBARA,  her  daughter 
GEORGE 
CAMILLE 
SCOTCH  MAG 

MR.  AND  MRS.  WAYNE-BROWN 
MR.  LEMUEL  CARTER 
Miss  MAE  DEFREESE 
MR.  AND  MRS.  VON  KIRTLAND 
Miss  VERA  SLOGAN 

HON.  AND  MRS.   PUDGET 
DR.  AND  MRS.  FOLKINGHAM 


MRS.  BOMPTON 'S  DINNER  PARTY. 

Scene:  Dining  room  of  Mrs.  Bompton's  hand 
some  residence.  Table  set  to  accommodate 
sixteen  guests.  The  room,  though  not  a 
large  one,  seems  spacious  and  important. 
There  are  four  doors,  one  at  the  rear  and 
two  at  the  right,  leading  to  other  rooms. 
The  general  entrance  is  in  a  farther  cor 
ner  at  the  left.  A  large  mirror  hangs  on  the 
rear  wall.  At  the  right,  very  near  to  the 
door,  stands  a  high  pedestal  holding  a  large 
vase  filed  with  roses. 

[Curtain  rises  disclosing  Barbara  at  mirror 
arranging  her  necklace.  She  takes  it  off 
and  puts  it  on  several  times,  striving  to 
secure  the  desired  effect.  The  voice  of 
Mrs.  Bompton  is  heard  without.] 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Barbara!  Barbara!  [enter 
MRS.  BOMPTON]  Barbara! 

BARBARA.     Yes,  Mother. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.     What  are  you  doing? 

BARBARA.  Fixing  my  necklace,  a  perfectly 
natural  thing  to  be — 


36    MRS.  BOMPTON 'S  DINNER  PARTY 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Well,  you'd  better  attend  to 
something  serious  for  we  are  in  the  deepest 
trouble  and  distress. 

BARBARA.  Heavens,  mother!  What  has  hap 
pened  ?  Somebody  sick,  dead,  money,  accident — 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Worse  than  that  [Mourn 
fully]  Worse  than  that. 

BARBARA.     Worse ! 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Yes.  [After  a  pause]  The 
butler  and  the  maid  have  left,  both  of  them  and 
not  fifteen  minutes  ago. 

BARBARA.  [A  trifle  annoyed]  Oh!  Is  that 
all? 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  You  ungrateful  child.  Is 
that  all?  Isn't  that  enough?  Here  I'm  giving 
an  elaborate  dinner  party.  The  food's  all  cooked, 
the  people  all  invited  and  the  illustrious  SCOTCH 
MAG,  the  guest  of  honor,  and  here  the  butler 
and  the  maid  leave  at  the  same  time.  What  shall 
I  do  ?  They  will  be  coming  in  any  moment  and 
there  won't  be  a  soul  here  to  receive  them  and 
no  one  to  give  them  a  bite  to  eat.  I  tell  you  I  '11 
never  hire  a  Socialist  again. 

BARBARA.  Wish  you  wouldn't  mother,  though 
it  will  doubtless  be  somebody  just  as  bad.  When 
you  belonged  to  the  Psychic  Uplift  movement, 
we  had  Psychic  Uplifters  all  over  the  house, 
when  you  were  addicted  to  modern  Transcen- 


MRS.  BOMPTON 'S  DINNER  PARTY    37 

dentalism  we  were  deluged  with  Transeendental- 
ists.  Now  it's  Socialism  and  Socialists,  and  as 
a  result  the  house  is  forever  topsy  turvy. 

MRS.  #OMPTON.  That's  right.  Reproach  your 
own  natural  mother. 

BARBARA.  I'm  not  reproaching  you  dear. 
I'm— 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Yes,  you  are.  Oh  dear, 
everything  goes  wrong.  Now,  I  had  the  drawing 
room  and  hall  redecorated  especially  for  this 
affair,  and  here  at  the  last  moment  the  decorat 
ors  don't  finish,  and  then  what  do  I  do?  Use 
this  room  for  hall,  drawing  room,  dining  room 
and  what  not?  The  responsibility  always  falls 
on  me. 

BARBARA.     That's  not  my  fault,  mother. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  No,  of  course  not.  But  won 't 
you  help  me?  The  guests  are  coming  any  min 
ute. 

BARBARA-  I  will  help  you  mother.  I'm  very 
sorry  you  are  in  a  predicament.  I'll  do  any 
thing.  Let's  call  up  the  employment  agency  at 
once.  Maybe  we  can  get  someone  there. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  I've  called  up  already  and 
they  promised  to  send  up  a  woman  on  the  next 
car.  She  ought  to  be  here  now — this  very  min 
ute.  Oh,  maybe  she  won't  come  at  all.  Wouldn't 


38    MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY 

it  be  dreadful?    [She  paces  up  and  down]  What 
shall  I  do?    What  shall  I  do? 

BARBARA.  First,  mother,  I'd  give  up  Social 
ism  and  the  rest  of  the  isms.  Your  peace  of 
mind  would  be — 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Give  up  nothing!  Give  up 
Socialism, — my  life — my  hope,  the  salvation  of 
the  race  and  boon  to  humanity?  How  can  you, 
Barbara,  how  can  you?  On  this  day  too,  when 
I  am  to  entertain  the  greatest  of  all  Socialists, 
SCOTCH  MAG,  that  acme  of  culture,  the  liberator, 
— but  how  can  I  entertain  when  I  haven't  a  maid 
or  a — 

[A  bell  rings.    MRS.  BOMPTON  and  BARBARA 
make  signs  of  alarm.] 

MRS.  BOMPTON.     There  she  is  now,  or  another 
guest,  or  all  the  guests  or  perhaps — 
[Enter  Camile.] 

CAMILE-  [As  MRS.  BOMPTON  and  BARBARA 
rush  toward  her]  Don't  trouble  please.  The 
door  was  open  and  I  just  walked  in  without  any 
ceremony. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  [Making  great  display  of 
welcome  to  BARBARA.  In  awed  tones]  It  must  be 
SCOTCH  MAG,  herself. 

[CAMILLE     meanwhile     impudently     looks 
around,  "sizes  things  up,"  examines  the 


MRS.  BOMPTON 'S  DINNER  PARTY    39 

bric-a-brac,  and  regards  the  vase  and 
pedestal  from  various  points  of  view.] 

CAMILLE.  What  a  beautiful  place  this  is,  and 
what  beautiful  expensive  things.  It  makes  me 
sad.  I  could  almost  weep  over  it.  [She  wipes 
her  eyes]  Oh,  I  know  I  shall  like  it  here. 

BARBARA.    Like  it? 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  We  Socialists  always  like  to 
be  together.  Isn't  socialism  a  wonderful  thing? 

CAMILLE.  Yes,  I  should  say.  I  love  society. 
I'm  very  sociable  and  I'm  so  popular.  Why, 
last  night  at  the  bartenders'  ball  I — simply  cre 
ated — 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Bartenders'  ball!  Sociable. 
Society.  What  can  this  mean?  [After  a  mo 
ment]  Why,  you're  not  SCOTCH  MAG. 

CAMILLE.     Who  is  she?    Another  applicant? 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Applicant?  [coming  to] 
Oh,  you  came  from  the  employment  agency. 

CAMILLE.     [Phlegmatically]Yes. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.     You're  the  new  domestic? 

CAMILLE.  Yes,  I'm  the  new  servant,  and  if 
you  please,  [smiling  sweetly]  I'd  like  to  be  called 
"Camille", — it's  such  a  pretty  name.  It  always 
makes  me  weep. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Very  well,  [haughtily]  I 
understand.  Now,  it  will  be  your  duty  to  attend 
to  everything  unless  the  new  butler  comes. 


40    MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY 

CAMILLE.    Yes  ma'am. 

MBS.  BOMPTON.  As  the  other  rooms  are  be 
ing  redectorated,  you'll  have  to  bring  the  guests 
right  in  here.  They  can  put  their  wraps  in  that 
room. 

CAMILLE.     Yes  ma'am. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Be  careful  and  mannerly. 
[to  BARBARA]  Please  show  CAMILLE  to  her  room. 
[She  walks  around  the  room  and  ostentatiously 
adjusts  the  articles  CAMILLE  has  displaced,] 

CAMILLE.  [Rushing  over  to  BARBARA]  Yes, 
do  show  me  my  room,  please.  I  like  you  already. 
Are  you  her  daughter?  [BARBARA  nods]  Do  tell. 
[as  they  walk  out]  I'd  never  have  thought  it, 
so  little  resemblance.  But  tell  me,  I'd  love  to 
know,  have  you  a  " steady"?  You  know  I  think 
—  [exeunt]. 

[MRS.  BOMPTON  continues  busying  herself 
around  the  room  when  George  enters, 
steals  up  behind  her  and  places  his  hands 
over  her  eyes.] 

GEORGE.     Three  guesses. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  It's  that  old  nuisance  of  a 
GEORGE  and  he  thinks  I  am  BARBARA. 

GEORGE.  No,  I  don't,  really.  I  think  that 
you  are  the  best — 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  See  here,  George.  I  have  ab 
solutely  no  time  for  your  foolishness.  I  must 


MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY    41 

get  to  work  and  you  must  too.  [She  sits  down 
comfortably]  Now,  first  set  every  one  of  those 
chairs  in  proper  order.  Pull  down  the  shades, 
— see  that  they  are  even, — and  arrange  the  cur 
tains.  Now,  straighten  the  rug  and  that  other 
rug,  and  the  picture  too,  while  you're  at  it. 
Then  see  if  the  table  is  complete,  and  be  careful 
not  to  upset  the  vases  while  you're  doing  it. 

GEORGE.     But  why,  pray,  must  I  be  butler? 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Simply  because  the  regular 
one  is  gone  and  the  maid  also. 

GEORGE.  "Whoops!  Again!  But  I  thought 
socialists  liked  to  work  together. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  See  here,  young  fellow,  you 
have  lots  to  learn  yet  about  Socialism.  As  I've 
told  you  so  often,  it's  the  mecca  of  the  masses, 
the  altar  of  hope,  the  glorious  goal  to  which — 

GEORGE.  [Sighting  BARBARA  entering]~&-x.- 
cuse  me  a  moment.  [Rushes  over  to  BARBARA.] 

BARBARA.  Hello  there  George.  Are  you  the 
first  dinner  guest? 

GEORGE.  No,  madam,  I'm  merely  the  butler, 
— merely  the  butler.  [They  hold  each  other's 
hands  for  several  moments  and  gaze  soulfully 
into  each  other's  eyes.]  How  have  you  been? 

BARBARA.     How  have  you  been? 

GEORGE.  Very  well,  thank  you,  very  well  and 
you? 


42    MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY 

BARBARA-  Very  well,  indeed.  [They  continue 
to  hold  hands  and  to  look  at  each  other.] 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  [Sharply]  Young  people. 
[They  drop  each  other's  hands ,  with  a  start] 
No  nonsense,  I  am  giving  an  exclusive  dinner 
party,  and  I  am  without  help,  and  I  simply  de 
mand  your  assistance. 

GEORGE.  Oh  let's  talk  instead.  What's  a  din 
ner  amount  to  anyway? 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  But  this  isn't  a  regular  din 
ner  party,  it 's  an  unique  function  for  a  celebrity. 

GEORGE.  A  what?  Say,  BARBARA,  tell  me 
what  it's  all  about.  Why  is  this  dinner  party 
different  from  all  other  proverbial  dinner  par 
ties? 

BARBARA.  Shame  on  you.  You've  forgotten 
already.  SCOTCH  MAG  is  to  be  the  guest  of  honor. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  [Waxing  eloquent]  Indeed 
yes!  SCOTCH  MAG,  the  queen  of  modern  social 
ists,  the  leader  of  all  women  for  all  times,  the 
great  apostle  of  light,  and  above  all,  the  most 
refined  lady  socialist  of  the  period. 

GEORGE.  But  my  dear  MRS.  BOMPTON,  how 
do  you  know  all  this?  Are  you  sure  of  it? 

MRS.  jBoMPTON.  How  do  I  know?  [puzzled 
for  a  moment]  Yes  [to  herself]  how  do  I  know? 
[then  aloud]  Of  course  I  know.  Does  not  every 


MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY    43 

one  who  knows  anything  about  Socialism  know 
that  SCOTCH  MAG  is  a  wonder,  a  person — 

GEORGE.  Pardon  me,  MRS.  BOMPTON,  but  do 
you  think  it  quite  safe  to  bring  these  strangers 
into  your  house,  in  such  a  promiscuous  way, 
when  you  don't  even  know — 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Know  fiddlesticks!  Every 
one  who  has  read  any  thing  at  all  knows  that 
SCOTCH  MAG, — I  tell  you  I'm  tired  of  your  in 
sinuations.  You're  continually  casting  slurs 
on  my  socialists  and  the  cause,  and  what  not. 
Ah — ah — oh  [stamps  her  foot]  I  don't  know 
what  to  say  to  you.  Here  I,  SCOTCH  MAG,  and 
the  whole  thinking  world  have  adopted  Social 
ism,  and  you,  you,  you,  there  you  stand.  I  tell 
you,  never  in  the  whole  world  will  you  be  my 
son-in-law,  [exit  in  a  great  passion.] 

GEORGE.  [Throiving  out  his  hands]  Now 
what  do  you  think  of  that  ? 

BARBARA.  She's  right  in  all  she  says.  I  quite 
agree  with  her. 

GEORGE.  You!  What's  this?  Have  you 
turned  Socialist  also? 

BARBARA.  No.  But  I  sympathize  with  mother. 
You  always  are  creating  doubt  and  suspicion 
around  here  and  that's  the  end  of  it.  If  you 
think  there  is  something  wrong  with  mother's 
guest,  why  don't  you  prove  it  instead  of — 


44    MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY 

GEORGE.  But  BARBARA,  I  meant  it  for  your 
good  and  I  thought — 

BARBARA.  Of  course,  I  confess,  I'm  kind  of 
afraid  of  all  these  strange  celebrities  myself,  and 
that's  just  why  it's  wrong  of  you  to  come  around 
and  frighten  me  still  more — 

GEORGE.     I'm  sorry— 

BARBARA.  That's  it.  I  expected  to  hear  you 
say  that.  And  what  good  does  that  do?  Why 
don't  you  act  as  other  men  do?  But  not  you, 
you're  too  willing  to  rest  on  your  laurels. 

GEORGE.     Barbara ! 

BARBARA.  Well, — I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  your 
feelings,  but  you  know  you  are  not  so  very 
strenuous. 

GEORGE.  [Crestfallen]  When  we  used  to  talk 
about  these  things  you  did  not  seem  to  think  this 
way.  I  had  hoped  that  I  could  be  considered 
reasonably  successful,  and  that  I  could  offer 
you  enough  to  make  you  happy. 

BARBARA-     [Piqued]It's  not  a  question  of  me. 

GEORGE.     Oh,  yes,  it  is. 

BARBARA.  It  isn't.  And  anyway  how  are  you 
ever  going  to  get  me  when  ycu  are  continually 
antagonizing  mother  ?  Indeed,  it  looks  as  though 
you  were  taking  that  way  of  getting  rid  of  me 
entirely. 


MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY    45 

GEORGE.  [Diregarding  her]  Of  course  I'm 
not  exactly  like  other  men.  I've  been  fairly 
content,  I  admit,  to  leave  well  enough  alone.  I 
cannot  even  see  the  value  of  rows  of  idle  coffers 
filled  with  gold.  I  think  money  was  meant  to 
be  used,  not  treasured.  What  I  have  I've  made 
honestly  through  hard  work  and  some  sacrifice. 
I  thought  it  was  enough  to  make  us  both  happy. 
I  am  healthy,  strong  and  active.  You  are  the 
same.  Of  course,  if  you  prefer  a  broken  down 
plutocrat  and  a  stately  mansion  and — 

BARBARA.  [Starts  to  cry]  You're  horrid 
GEORGE, — just  horrid.  You  always  will  quarrel. 
I'm  sure  I  can't  help  what  mother  does.  Why, 
I  haven't  the  least  idea  where  she  met  SCOTCH 
MAG.  You  know  I  look  hideous  when  I  cry.  It 
is  just — [exit  weeping.] 

[GEORGE  then  begins  to  arrange  the  room. 
— Enter  CAMILLE.] 

CAMILLE.  [To  GEORGE]  How 'do.  I  suppose 
you  are  the  new  butler. 

GEORGE.  There!  That's  the  trouble  with 
these  full  dress  suits.  You  can't  tell  a  guest 
from  a  butler. 

CAMILLE.  You  are  a  nice  looking  butler  and 
I  like  you  very  much. 

GEORGE.  [GEORGE  makes  signs  of  distress  and 
then  says,  bowing]  Thanks. 


46    MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY 

CAMILLE.  [Enthusiastically]  Say  do  you 
know  you  remind  me — 

GEORGE.     That  reminds  me. 

CAMILLE.  Yes,  you  remind  me  of  a  friend  of 
mine.  Professor  John  De  Breezo.  He  is  a 
steeple  climber.  They  call  him  Jack.  He  leads 
such  a  sad  life.  I  could  weep  when  I  think  of 
it.  You  know  we  used  to  go  together,  but  we 
fell  out.  That's  just  my  luck.  I  always  fall 
out.  You  see  it  was  this  way.  He  took  me  to 
the  circus  when  it  was  here,  and  that's  when  we 
quarreled.  He  wanted  me  to  go  right  straight 
in  to  the  big  show  and  I  insisted  on  going  to  the 
side  show  first.  I  simply  dote  on  the  side 
show,  and  I  never  feel  that  I  've  really  gone  to  the 
circus  unless  I  attend  it.  But  any  way  it  was 
the  day  of  the  circus,  you  see  that — 

[The  bell  rings.  CAMILLE  rushes  across 
stage  and  makes  up  at  the  mirror.  Exit 
GEORGE,  and  then  leisurely  ushers  in  MB. 
AND  MRS.  WAYNE-BROWN.] 

CAMILLE.  [To  MR.  AND  MRS.  WAYNE-BROWN, 
animatedly]  Yes,  as  I  was  sayin',  I  went  to  the 
ten  cent  vaudeville  last  night  and  it  was  great, 
— five  good  acts  besides  the  moving  picture  and 
the  illustrated  song  which  was  very  sad  and  made 
me  weep.  There  always  is  something  or—  [exit] 


MRS.  BOMPTON 'S  DINNER  PARTY    47 

[Bell  rings  and  CAMILLE  re-enters  at  once, 

to  usher  in  MR.  AND  MRS.  VON  KJRTLAND 

and  Miss  VERA  SLOGAN.    Meanwhile  MRS. 

BOMPTON  re-enters  and  forms  receiving 

line  with  BARBARA.    Re-enter  GEORGE.] 

CAMILLE.     [To  new  arrivals]  It  was  really  a 

beautiful  story  about  a  divorced  duchess  and 

her  platonic  friend,  and  their  troubles.    I  wept 

over  parts  of  it  and  you  really  couldn't  blame — 

[Bell  rings  and  CAMILLE  ushers  in  DR.  AND 

MRS.    FOLKINGHAM.] 

CAMILLE.  Yes  really  and  honestly.  The 
truth  about  the  matter  is  this.  I  simply  dote 
on  onions.  They're  so  healthy.  Yet  every  time 
I  prepare  them  they  make  me  weep.  I  guess  it's 
— [She  collides  with  a  vase  which  breaks  to 
pieces. — Exit,  weeping  loudly.] 

[Temporary  panic  mingled  with  cries  from 
MRS.  BOMPTON  of  "servant,  stupidity, 
swell  dinner  party" ;  soothing  comments 
from  BARBARA  and  the  constant  ringing 
of  the  bell.  GEORGE  in  his  capacity  of 
butler  sweeps  up  the  remains  of  the  vase- 
CAMILLE  wiping  her  eyes,  finally  answers 
bell,  ushering  in  Miss  MAE  DEFREESE, 
HON.  AND  MRS.  PUDGET  and  MR.  LEMUEL 
CARTER.  MR.  PUDGET  wears  medals.] 


48    MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY 

[In  the  midst  of  the  general  excitement  of 
receiving,  GEORGE  tries  to  be  attentive 
to  BARBARA.  She  receives  him  coldly  and 
he  talks  to  Miss  DEFREESE  to  the  annoy 
ance  of  BARBARA  and  MR.  CARTER. 
Finally  MRS.  BOMPTON'S  voice  is  heard 
above  the  rest.] 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Yes,  Miss  SLOGAN,  SCOTCH 
MAG  is  certainly  a  celebrity  and  you  certainly 
are  privileged  to  have  the  opportunity  of  meeting 
her.  She  has  accomplished  untold  values  for 
the  equality  of  man,  of  which,  as  you  know,  I 
am  a  strong  advocate.  She  is  so  democratic,  so 
simple  and  yet  so  refined  and  cultured.  Why, 
I  assure  you,  in  a  personal  typewritten  letter  to 
me,  she  herself  mentions  all  these  rare  qualities. 
Naturally  I  feel  confident  she  must  possess  them. 
But  why  doesn  't  she  come  ?  She 's  past  due  now. 
Everything  will  get  cold  and  won't  be  fit  to  eat, 
and  then  the  dinner  will  be  spoiled  and  then — 
BARBARA.  [Soothingly]  Don't  worry  mother. 
She'll  come.  Just  have  patience.  [The  bell 
rings]  There  she  is  now. 

[Enter  SCOTCH  MAG  in  decidedly  mascu 
line  fashion,  followed  by  CAMILLE  who  is 
a  little  over-awed  and  mystified  at  the 
appearance  of  the  last  arrival.] 


MRS.  BOMPTON 'S  DINNER  PARTY    49 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  [Walking  up  to  her  with 
great  dignity]  SCOTCH  MAG,  the  famous  social 
ist,  I  believe. 

SCOTCH  MAG.  Glad  to  see  you,  my  dear  MRS. 
BOMPTON.  [She  embraces  her  violently.] 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  [Quite  elated]  Now,  let  me 
introduce  you  to  the  other  guests.  This  lady  is 
MRS.  WAYNE- 
MAG.  Oh,  don't  trouble  about  their  names. 
We  are  all  sisters  and  brothers  without  degree 
or  title.  I  shall  not  hesitate  at  throwing  aside 
ceremony  and  will  shake  the  hand  of  every 
brother,  and  embrace  every  sister  present. 

[She  starts  in  to  shake  hands  hastily  with 
each  man,  and  to  embrace  violently  every 
woman  in  turn,  beginning  with  BARBARA. 
While  embracing  MRS.  VON  KIRTLAND, 
the  latter  cries  out-] 

MRS.  VON  KIRTLAND.  Oh,  my  neck!  You're 
squeezing  my  necklace. 

MAG.  Pardon  me,  I  am  so  enthusiastic.  [She 
stoops  and  picks  up  MRS.  VON  KIRTLAND  's  neck 
lace  which  has  fallen  to  the  floor.]  Your  neck 
lace.  [Aside,  to  no  one  in  particular]  Women 
will  wear  these  heathen  ornaments.  [Then  she 
shakes  hands  hastily  with  the  remaining  men. 
George  waits  a  moment  and  looks  at  her  slowly 
before  offering  his  hand.  CAMILLE  glowers.] 


50    MRS.  BOMPTON 'S  DINNER  PARTY 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Now,  that  you  have  all  had 
the  honor  and  the  privilege  of  meeting  SCOTCH 
MAG  let  us  repair  to  the  dinner  table. 

MAG.  If  you  will  pardon  me,  I  will  first  ex 
cuse  myself  and  take  a  moment  to  shampoo  my 
hair.  You  know  I  always  take  a  dry  shampoo 
before  dinner,  [to  CAMIILE]  Come,  my  pretty 
miss,  show  me  the  way.  [CAMILLE  goes  defiantly 
amidst  a  great  silence.  All  the  guests  stand  in 
a  circle  and  look  questioningly  at  MRS.  BOMP 
TON.] 

ALL.     Shampoo  her  hair ! 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  [Defiantly]  It's — it's  a  so 
cialist  custom, — that  is,  I  mean,  we  don't  believe 
in  being  formal, — besides,  celebrities  are  always 
different  from  other  people.  But  let 's  talk  about 
the  weather. 

[Everyone  talks.] 

MRS.  FOLK.  [To  MRS.  WAYNE-BROWN]  Oh, 
my  dear  MRS.  WAYNE-BROWN,  did  you  go  to 
Mrs.  Catskill's  reception? 

MRS.  WAYNE-BROWN.     I  beg  pardon? 

MRS.  FOLK.  Did  you  go  to  Mrs.  Catskill's 
reception  ? 

MRS.  WAYNE-BROWN.  Yes,  I  regret  to  say  I 
did.  It  was  the  same  old  thing, — quantity,  in 
stead  of  quality.  Quite  too  stupid  to  talk  about, 
I'm  sure.  [Animatedly  to  Miss  DEFREESE  who 


MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY    51 

approaches.]  Oh,  Miss  D^FREESE,  did  you  go  to 
Mrs.  Catskill's  reception? 

Miss  DEFREESE.  Yes,  indeed!  Delightful 
affair,  wasn't  it?  So  novel  too.  [They  walk 
to  'back  of  stage,  leaving  MRS.  FOLKINGHAM  stand 
ing.}  Thoroughly  enjoyable  in  every  respect, 
MRS.  WAYNE-BROWN,  as  you — 

MR.  VON  KIRTLAND.  Just  as  I  tell  you,  MR. 
CARTER.  Every  good  archeologist  knows  that  the 
recent  excavations  at  Mycene  and  Tiryns  have 
thoroughly  established  the  fact  that  scientific 
ally  as  well  as  logically,  the  effects  of — [sighting 
MRS.  VON  KIRTLAND.  Aside}  Pay  your  respects 
to  MRS.  WAYNE-BROWN,  my  dear,  pay  your  re 
spects  to  MRS.  WAYNE-BROWN.  [To  MR.  CARTER] 
Have  thoroughly  established  the  scientific  hy 
pothesis  that  the  enigma  of — 

MR.  CARTER.  Yes,  I  know,  MR.  VON  KIRTLAND, 
[they  go  to  back  of  stage]  but  don't  you  see  that 
a  deficiency  of  this  sort  is. 

Miss  SLOGAN.  [To  MR.  PUDGET]  Oh,  quite 
true,  quite  true.  I  sincerely  believe  in  the  high 
value  of  literature  and  its  noble  standards.  Be 
lieve  me,  MR.  PUDGET,  I  glorify  in  art. 

MRS.  PUDGET.  [Rushing  up]  Oh,  Miss  SLO 
GAN,  have  you  read  "The  Wrist  of  Frances"? 
It's  perfectly  splendid  and  the  very  best  seller. 
Miss  SLOGAN.  [Icily]  The  what  of  Frances? 


52    MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY 

MRS.  PUDGET.  "The  "Wrist  of  Frances." 
Everyone's  reading  it  you  know,  and  I'm  sure 
that  you — 

Miss  SLOGAN.  I  never  read  the  new  books. 
I  read  the  classics  only.  At  present  I  am  read 
ing  Shakespeare's  "King  Lear"  for  the  first 
time.  I  assure  you  that  it  is  a  masterpiece. 

MR.  PUDGET.    I  quite  agree  with  you. 

Miss  SLOGAN.  I  thank  you.  As  they  say  so 
often,  "Satan  still  finds  books  for  idle  hands  to 
write."  N'est-ce  pas? 

MR.  PUDGET.  Verily.  Why,  just  yesterday 
someone  was  saying  that ' '  Marie  Claire ' '  is  the — 

MR.  FOLKINGHAM.  [To  MR.  WAYNE-BROWN] 
I  say  BROWN,  I  wish  they'd  eat,  don't  you? 

MR.  WAYNE-BROWN.  You  bet.  I've  got  a 
bloomin'  appetite.  This  reminds  me  of  an  Eng 
lish  dinner  party.  Give  me  a  good  substantial 
home  meal  any  time. 

MR.  FOLKINGHAM.  [To  MR.  CARTER,  coming 
up]  Say,  CARTER,  what  about  the  market?  Have 
stocks  gone  up  again?  Tell  me.  [The  three  men 
walk  away  talking.] 

MRS.  FOLKINGHAM.  [To  MRS.  PUDGET]  It  cer 
tainly  is  shocking.  I  hate  to  speak  of  it.  I  don't 
like  to  gossip,  but  they  say  that — 

MRS.  PUDGET.  Yes,  and  besides  they  say  that — 


MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY    53 

MRS.  FOLKINGHAM.  Shocking.  [They  walk 
away.] 

BARBARA.  [Goes  quietly  over  to  GEORGE] 
GEORGE,  my  necklace  is  gone.  What  shall  I  do? 

GEORGE.     Your  necklace  gone  ? 

BARBARA.     Yes,  what  shall  I  do? 

GEORGE.  [After  several  moments]  Don't 
worry,  dear.  We'll  get  it  back. 

BARBARA.     It's  very  valuable,  you  know. 

GEORGE.    You're  sure  you  didn't  lose  it? 

BARBARA.  Positive.  I  just  put  it  on  a  moment 
before  you  came  in. 

GEORGE.  Very  well.  I'll  see  that  you  get  it 
back. 

BARBARA.     You  mean — 

GEORGE.     Wait,  and  don't  worry. 

MAG.  [Re-enters.  Hair  much  spread  out.] 
I  feel  much  better.  Let's  sit  down  and  eat. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Yes,  let  us  sit  down  now. 
You'll  find  your  place  cards  without  any  diffi 
culty.  [They  start  taking  their  places]  SCOTCH 
MAG  at  the  center,  please.  Our  celebrity  must 
have  the  place  of  honor.  [They  finish  seating 
themselves.] 

CAMILLE.  [As  she  sees  GEORGE  sitting  down, 
to  no  one  in  particular]  The  butler's  sitting  down 
too.  They  might  have  asked  me  too.  [Exit  and 
then  returns  with  first  course.] 


54    MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY 

[Starts  serving   the  various   courses.     She 
lurches  about  so  frightfully  that  the  in 
dividual  guests  seem  worried  about  their 
safety.     Then  she  reaches  far  over  each 
guest,    brushing    their   heads   as   she   de 
posits  the  dishes.     Mag's  table  manners 
are  atrocious.    Over  the  general  conversa 
tion,  the  folloiving  remarks  are  heard.} 
MR.  CARTER.     Yes,  I  always  read  the  morning 
papers. 

Miss  DEFREESE.     Oh,  do  you?    They  say  they 
do  not  exert  an  ethical  influence.    Somehow,  I — 
MRS.   WAYNE-BROWN.     Caviar?     Don't  men 
tion  it.     I  can't  bear  it.    Never. 

MRS.  FOLKINGHAM.  [To  MRS.  WAYNE- 
BROWN]  Still  after  all  your  trips  abroad,  I  should 
think  that  Russian — 

GEORGE.  [To  SCOTCH  MAG]  Tell  me,  SCOTCH 
MAG,  what  do  you  think  of  Karl  Marx's  book? 

MAG.  Why, — oh — ah — I — It's  wonderful, 
wonderful,  and  so  interesting.  [To  her  neigh 
bor]  You  were  saying — 

MRS.  PUDGET.  That's  exactly  my  idea  of  art, 
MR.  CARTER.  I  do  not  favor  impression.  It  is 
too,  oh,  what  shall  I  call  it?  Too,  ah — 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Believe  me,  MR.  VON  KIRT- 
LAND,  I  feel  that  my  mission,  and  the  salvation 
of— 


MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY    55 

MR.  VON  KIRTLAND-  I  quite  agree  with  you 
MRS.  BOMPTON. 

DR.  FOLKINGHAM.        [To  MRS.  WAYNE-BROWN] 

I  had  just  reached  that  ravine,  and  the  night 
was  advancing  when — 

Miss  SLOGAN.  Oh,  is  the  Doctor  telling  his 
bear  story  again? 

DR.  FOLKINGHAM.     No,  it's  my  other  one. 

MR.  PUDGET.  No,  absolutely  and  positively, 
I  will  not  consent  to  be  president  of  any  bridge 
club. 

GEORGE.  [To  SCOTCH  MAG]  I  have  not  heard 
yet,  SCOTCH  MAG,  if  you  advocate  co-operation. 

MAG.     I  never  was  great  on  operations. 

MRS.  VON  KIRTLAND.     Is  your  soup  cold? 

MR.  VON  KIRTLAND.     Cold  as  an  icicle. 

Miss  DEFREESE.  See,  how  intellectual  the 
VON  KIRTLANDS  appear.  I  wager  you're  discuss 
ing  the  Hammurabi  code. 

MR.  VON  KIRTLAND.  Yes,  I  was  just  about  to 
say — 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  [Rising]  Ladies  and  Gentle 
men:  I  think  it  is  only  befitting  the  dignity  of 
this  occasion  that  we  have  a  toast  list.  I  will 
take  the  liberty  of  acting  as  toastmistress.  [ap 
plause]  Our  first  number  will  be  by  that  born 
leader  of  all  social  progress,  SCOTCH  MAG.  [Ap 
plause.] 


56    MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY 

MAG.  Ladies  and  Gents.  [Here  CAMILLE 
drops  a  tray,  breaks  a  number  of  dishes  and  re 
tires  weeping]  I  repeat,  Ladies  and  Gents,  I  am 
delighted  to  see  you  all,  especially  on  this  oc 
casion  around  the  festive  board.  Socialism  is 
the  greatest  thing  in  the  world.  [Applause  led 
by  MRS.  BOMPTON.  ...  I  have  done  a  great  deal 
for  socialism  and  hope  to  do  much  more.  I  do 
this  good  work,  not  for  my  own  gain,  but  for  the 
benefit  of  the  world  at  large,  [applause  as  be 
fore]  I  would  gladly  die  for  the  cause,  [ap 
plause]  That's  all.  Thank  you  one  and  all. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  [Rising]  That  was  an  excel 
lent  oration.  I  'm  glad  you  appreciated  and  liked 
it.  Now,  we'll  hear  from  my  daughter,  [ap 
plause] 

BARBARA.     Must  I,  mother? 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Yes,  but  don't  make  it  too 
long. 

BARBARA.  [Rising]  I  thank  you  ladies  and 
gentlemen  for  your  applause.  I  only  wish  I 
were  worthy  of  it.  I  hardly  know  what  to  say, 
but  the  busy  life  my  mother  and  her  distinguish 
ed  friends  lead,  make  me  reflect  often  on  the 
strenuous  character  of  modern  life.  We  Ameri 
cans,  as  you  know,  are  especially  strenuous,  and 
I  as  an  American  girl  inherit  the  habit.  But  I 
regret  it,  for  it  is  a  serious  mistake.  I  believe 


MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY    57 

that  our  excess  of  ambition  is  harmful,  destroys 
life,  health  and  strength  and  blights  the  future 
welfare  of  the  race.  I  don't  uphold  the  cause  of 
the  sluggard  but  I  think  that  extremes  are  al 
ways  bad.  You  are  great,  and  I  am  obscure,  but 
if  I  can  offer  you  a  message,  let  it  be  this  one: 
Moderate  your  ambitions  and  thereby  live  hap 
pily,  healthfully,  and  beautifully,  [applause]. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  And  now,  will  Mr.  George 
please  say  a  few  words? 

GEORGE.  Indeed,  I  shall.  I'm  just  in  the 
mood.  I'll  speak  of  love.  And  what  is  love 
anyhow?  It  is  that  inexpressible  thing  which 
we  are  all  trying  to  express.  Simple  enough.  The 
world  is  full  of  love.  It  is  beautiful  and  noble. 
I  love  the  world.  I  love  everyone  in  the  world. 
I'm  the  happiest  man  alive.  I  thank  all  of  you. 
[applause]  —  [Sits  down,  but  rises  again,  look 
ing  grave.]  Unfortunately,  I  must  add  a  post 
script.  We  sometimes  overlook  the  material  side 
of  this  world  when  we  are  carried  away  in  our 
enthusiasms.  I  do  not  feel  entirely  sure  if  I 
love  everyone  here  or  not,  because  I  don't  know 
everyone  well  enough,  and  besides,  it  is  foolish 
to  squander  love  on  everyone.  Now,  I  once  had 
a  chum  who  entertained  a  person  at  his  own 
table  whom  he  believed  to  be  a  sincere  friend, 
devoted  to  his  interests  and  welfare.  Instead,  he 


58    MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY 

soon  learned  the  contrary.  The  supposed  friend 
was  deliberately  [he  looks  directly  at  SCOTCH 
MAG]  plotting — was  deliberately  plotting — [MAG 
drops  the  glass  she  is  holding  and  it  shatters 
on  the  floor.  There  is  a  great  pause.  Finally 
CAMILLE  enters.] 

CAMILLE.     Did  someone  break  something? 
[General  laughter  and  conversation  follow 
and    the    meal   is    continued.      CAMILLE 
serves  and   while   doing  so   becomes   en 
tangled  in  MAG'S  hair.     MAG  strives  to 
extricate  herself  and  increases  the  trouble. 
A   slight    tussle   follows    and    confusion. 
With  a  last  jerk  CAMILLE  frees  herself, 
at  the  same  time  pulling  off  MAG'S  black 
wig,  disclosing  her  red  hair.} 
MAG.     [Hastily]  Give  it  to  me  quickly.     Give 
it  to  me,  I  say,  and  I'll  put  it  on  again.     Hand 
it  to  me.    CAMILLE  starts  to  hand  back  the  wig.] 
GEORGE.     A   moment,    please.        I'll   take   it. 
[MAG  jumps  forth  with  a  shriek,  but  he  is  too 
quick  for  her.    He  examines  the  wig  slowly  and 
carefully    and    at    last    draws    out    BARBARA'S 
necklace.]     Here,  BARBARA,  is  your  necklace.     I 
take  pleasure  in  returning  it  to  you,  for  it  is  a 
very  handsome  one.     That  violent  embrace  and 
subsequent  shampoo  almost  deprived  you  of  it 
permanently. 


MRS.  BOMPTON 'S  DINNER  PARTY    59 

MBS.  BOMPTON.  What's  this?  [She  looks 
at  the  wig  in  GEORGE'S  hand  and  the  necklace 
in  BARBARA'S  hand]  I  can't  believe  that  she 
was  smart  enough  to  do  it.  That  witch,  that 
thief,  impose  on  me  so  and  at  my  swell  dinner 
too.  SCOTCH  MAG  indeed!  Ill  have  the  police 
on  her.  Where  is  she  ?  Bring  her  to  me.  Where 
is  she?  Where  is  she?  [There  is  a  search  for 
her,  but  she  is  not  found.] 

CAMILLE-  [Finally  appearing]  Please  mam, 
I  showed  her  out. 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Very  well.  Very  well.  Very 
—  [She  swoons  and  all  the  guests  slip  away. 
BARBARA  fans  her.  GEORGE  stops  CAMILLE  in  the 
act  of  throwing  the  champagne  cooler  at  her.] 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  [Coming  to]  Didn't  I  do 
that  cleverly? 

BARBARA..     Do  what1' 

MRS.  BOMPTON.  Why,  swoon.  I  had  to  get 
rid  of  those  gaping  curious  guests  somehow.  It 
is  a  relief  to  have  the  place  to  ourselves.  And 
now  I  must  thank  GEORGE.  [Going  over  to  him] 
You  were  right  GEORGE.  You  thought  just  as 
I  did  about  the  woman.  She  seemed  very  sus 
picious  to  me  from  the  first.  GEORGE,  my  own 
son,  I'm  proud  of  you.  [She  kisses  him  heartily, 
unashamed]  You  know  I  don't  care  about  the 
Socialist  business  anyway.  MR.  VON  KIRTLAND 


60    MRS.  BOMPTON'S  DINNER  PARTY 

at  dinner  persuaded  me  to  take  up  Euphoria, 
the  new  religion.  Euphoria  comes  from  the 
Greek  word  meaning  sense  of  well  being.  It 
stands  for  all  that  is  best,  noblest,  and  strongest 
in  mortal  and  immortal  life.  My  creed  is  hence 
forth  Euphoria.  And  now,  you'll  excuse  me 
please  while  I  discharge  CAMILLE.  You  know  it 
was  really  she  who  ruined  my  dinner  party. 
[exit.] 

BARBARA.  I  am  at  least  glad  it  is  Euphoria 
and  not  an  "ism"  this  time.  Aren't  you? 

GEORGE.  Yes.  Euphoria,  sense  of  well  being 
doesn't  sound  half  bad. 

BARBARA.  On  the  contrary,  it  sounds  very 
good. 

GEORGE.  I'm  beginning  to  experience  it  al 
ready,  aren't  you? 

BARBARA.    Well,  yes, — somewhat. 

GEORGE.  BARBARA,  do  you  love  me  ?  [He  goes 
to  her  and  starts  to  embrace  her-] 

BARBARA.  Well,  GEORGE,  indeed  I  must— 
[CAMILLE  enters  weeping.  They  do  not  hear 
her  until  she  stops  midway  and  says  aloud.] 

CAMILLE.  Land  sakes !  I  never  saw  such  a 
butler  in  all  my  professional  experience,  [exit 
weeping.  ] 

[GEORGE  and  BARBARA  embrace.] 


THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON 


CASTE 

MRS.  EDITH  WILLIAMS  HALLAM 

RUTH 

FANCHON 

KATE 

JANE 

GRACE 

BELLE 

IDA 

HELEN 

SUSAN 


THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON. 

Scene    Living  Room  of  the  HALLAM  residence. 
Time    The  present. 

[Curtain  rises  disclosing  Edith  (r)  pouring 
tea  at  tea-table,  RUTH  sitting  down  (1) 
and  FANCHON  behind  her  chair. 

RUTH.  Tell  me  all  about  it  again,  EDITH.  I 
haven't  understood  one  single  word. 

FANCHION-  You  stupid.  Not  a  single  word? 
Can't  you  really  understand  what  EDITH  has 
been  telling  us? 

RUTH.     No,  I  can't.    Can  you? 

FANCHION.  [Laughing]  No.  I  can't  either. 
It's  all  a  great  big  mystery.  [To  EDITH]  Wont 
you  explain  again? 

RUTH.  Yes!  Please  start  over  again,  from 
the  very  first. 

EDITH.  [Passes  tea  and  FANCHION  sits  down] 
There!  I  was  afraid  it  would  be  difficult.  Yet 
it's  really  very  simple.  The  whole  matter  con 
cerns  just — 

RUTH.     Why  do  you  stop  dear? 

EDITH.  Well — you  know,  after  all,  it  is  rather 
hard  to  explain. 

65 


66       THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON 

RUTH.     Why? 

EDITH.  Well  because — because  you  are  both 
unmarried,  that  is,  you  are  both  single  and — 

FANCHION.  Oh  don't  let  that  trouble  you 
dear. 

RUTH.  And  besides  you  said  it  was  for  the 
good  of  the  unmarried. 

EDITH.  Exactly.  It  is  for  the  good  of  the 
unmarried.  I  just  felt  that  you  two  girls,  who 
have  always  been  my  confidents,  my  chums, — 
ought  to  be  the  first  to  know  my  wonderful  scien 
tific  discovery.  Now,  as  a  staid  married  woman 
of  exactly  two  years'  matrimonial  experience, 
I  have  felt  it  my  duty  to  watch  over  the  for 
tunes  of  all  less  fortunate.  I  mean — ah — all 
unmarried  women. 

FANCHION.     That  is — old  maids. 

RUTH.     FANCHON  ! 

EDITH.  Now  I  find  upon  serious  investigation 
that  this  delightful  town  of  ours  is  simply  full 
of  adorable  unmarried  women — 

FANCHON.     Woefully  full. 

EDITH.  And, — worse  yet, — they  all  seem 
likely  to  remain  unmarried.  Isn't  that  dread 
ful?  It's  so  strange  too.  They're  all  such 
charming  girls.  I'm  sure  it  can't  be  their  fault. 
There  must  be  something  the  matter  with  the 
town,  [hastily]  Of  course,  I  know  that  in  your 


THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON       67 

case  it's  entirely  different  and  if  you  girls  want 
ed  to,  you  could  without  doubt — 

FANCHON.  Don't  mind  us.  Just  go  on.  We 
are  dying  of  curiosity. 

EDITH.  Well  I  pondered  over  conditions  and 
worried  over  them.  Finally  I  decided  that  there 
must  be  some  solution  to  the  matter.  With  this 
decision  came  a  great  resolve:  I  would  devote 
every  moment  of  my  life  to  discovering  and 
working  out  the  solution.  From  that  moment 
on  I  began  to  work  and  study.  I  read  all  the 
books  I  could  find.  I  waded  through  tedious 
volumes  on  love  and  matrimony.  I  hunted  up 
books  of  charms  and  magic.  Why  you  do  not 
know  how  I  worked  and  studied.  Indeed,  I  could 
think  of  nothing  else.-  It  seemed  that  my  sole 
purpose  in  life  was  to  secure  the  happiness  of 
my  sisters — for  all  womankind.  Love,  the  most 
beautiful  thing  in  life,  finds  its  highest  expres 
sion  in  holy  matrimony  and  this  love,  by  divine 
right,  belongs  to  every  woman  and  belongs  to 
every  man.  It  is  unjust,  and  wrong  if  they  do 
not  possess  it;  for  surely  all  people  have  some 
right  to  happiness.  At  last  when  I  was  growing 
weary  of  my  search  success  came  to  me. 

BOTH.     Success ! 

EDITH.  I  suddenly  discovered  the  great 
psychological  principles  which  underlie  the  whole 


68       THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON 

great  question.  But  more  of  that  later.  I  shall 
tell  you  this  great  secret  when  the  others  come; 
for  I  have  asked  some  of  the  girls  over  that  they 
too  might  hear  and  profit. 

RUTH.  Oh  please  tell  us  at  once.  I  am  so 
anxious  to  know. 

EDITH.  Not  now.  Wait  till  some  of  the 
others  come. 

FANCHON.  [Stepping  up]  We'll  wait,  gladly. 
[she  kisses  her]  EDITH,  you're  an  angel.  Your 
nobility  and  unselfishness  make  us — 

EDITH.  No.  It's  not  that.  I  just  believe 
in  happiness  and  in  people..  I  believe  in  men 
and  in  women. 

RUTH.  Yes.  We  all  should;  though  it  is 
pretty  hard  to  believe  sometimes. 

FANCHON.  Don't  you  ever  waver  in  your 
belief? 

EDITH.  No.  I  never  have — [with  a  slight 
start]  Yes,  this  very  day — for  the  first  time,  I 
have  wavered  and  questioned  for  I  have  been 
made  to  doubt  two  men  whom  I  had  always  con 
sidered  honorable  and  upright. 

RUTH.     Two  men  ? 

FANCHON.     Who  ? 

EDITH.  I  hate  to  tell  you  because  it  seems 
almost  v  rcng  to  talk  about.  Yet  you  will  know 


THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON       69 

before  long  for  it  concerns  Eugene  Wilson  and 
Howard  Smith. 

FANCHON.     Eugene  Wilson! 

RUTH-     Howard  Smith! 

EDITH.  Yes,  I  fear  they  are  in  trouble  of 
some  kind.  They  have  both  closed  their  places 
of  business  for  some  unknown  reasons,  and, 
strangely  enough,  without  a  word  of  warning 
have  left  the  city  together.  No  one  knows  where 
they  are  or  what  has  happened  to  them.  It  is 
such  a  sad  affair.  Those  fine  fellows  too ;  every 
one  resi  ectcd  and  liked  them  so  well. 

FANCHON.  But  Edith,  listen,  it  is  different 
from  what — 

RUTH.     Yes  listen,  please,  you  must  see  that — 
[The  bell  rings.] 

RUTH.     FANCHON, — the  bell! 

EDITH.  One  of  the  girls  already.  I  didn't 
think  it  was  so  late.  Now  I  shall  be  able  to  tell 
them  of  my  wonderful  discovery. 

[Enter  KATE,  center,  a  rather  severe  look 
ing  girl  who  is  dressed  with  extreme  plain 
ness.  EDITH  goes  up  to  her  and  shakes 
her  hand.] 

RUTH.     [Shakes  her  hand]   How  do  you  do, 

KATEf 

FANCHON.     [Shaking  her  hand]    Kate. 


70       THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON 

KATE.  [To  EDITH]  You  say  you  have  some 
thing  interesting  to  tell  me? 

EDITH.     [With  animation]  Yes — ah — 

KATE.  [Practically]  I'll  be  glad  to  hear  it, 
but  I  hope  it  is  nothing  about  matrimony,  or 
anybody's  engagement  being  announced.  You 
know  if  there  is  anything  that  bores  me  thorough 
ly,  it  is  this  wild  interest  that  most  women  take 
in  weddings  and  engagements,  and  wedding 
breakfasts  and  all  that  sort  of  stuff.  Really  a 
person  would  think  that  the  sole  topic  of  inter 
est  in  the  world  was  marriage. 

EDITH.  Why  KATE  !  Do  you  mean  this  ?  Can 
you — 

KATE.  Yes  I  do.  There's  this  much  about  it, 
since  I've  taken  up  suffrage  I  have  become  fully 
convinced  of  the  inane  character  of  men.  They  're 
all  alike,  short  or  tall,  fat  or  lean.  I  don't  think 
much  of  the  whole  group  in  general. 

EDITH.     In  general? 

KATE.  Yes,  and  in  particular  also.  They're 
much  the  same.  Take  the  case  now  of  Howard 
Smith  and  Eugene  Wilson — those  models — weak 
lings  like  the  rest.  They've  failed  in  their  busi 
ness,  and  now  its  common  talk  that  they  have 
taken  French  leave. 

FANCHON.    KATE  ! 

EDITH.     How  can  you  ! 


THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  EEASON       71 

RUTH.     Dreadful ! 

KATE.  [FANCHON  helps  her  to  tea] — Well, 
you  certainly  have  heard  by  this  time  that  they 
have — 

[The  bell  rings.] 
[Enter  JANE.] 

JANE.  [Weakly]  How'd  do  everybody.  [She 
drops  into  a  chair.] 

FANCHON.     Is  anything  the  matter? 

EDITH.     How  white  you  look! 

KATE.     Are  you  ill  ? 

RUTH.     How  faint  she  is ! 

JANE.  Yes — no  I'm  all  right.  Don't  be 
frightened — I'm  just  a  little  bit  upset.  Overly 
tired,  that's  all. 

FANCHON.     Are  you  sure? 

RUTH.     Yes,  are  you  sure? 

JANE.  Perfectly.  It  was  just  a  passing  mo 
ment.  We  all  must  have  them,  I  guess, — a  little 
joy,  a  little  sadness,  and — 

EDITH.  Now  here  you  are  sad,  dear,  and  I  had 
something  to  confide  to  you. 

JANE.  You  were  going  to  confide  in  me — to 
make  me  your  confident?  How  generous  you 
all  are.  What  friendship  and  how  selfish  I  am. 
EDITH,  RUTH,  all  of  you,  I  must  confide  in  you. 
I  must  tell  you  my  secret. 


72       THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON 

EDITH.  [Walking  up  to  her  and  taking  her 
hand,  gently}  Do  tell  us  dear  if  it  will  relieve  and 
help  you.  We  will  be  so  glad  to  share  your  con 
fidence. 

JANE.  I  was  ill — sick  with  fear.  It  was  a 
striking  resemblance.  A  man  I  saw,  just  as  I 
was  about  to  enter  the  house. 

ALL.     A  man  you  saw? 

JANE.  Yes — I  thought  at  first  I  had  seen  Carl 
Bently,  but  it  was  just  some  one  who  looked 
like  him.  Yet,  in  spite  of  myself,  I  was  fright 
ened, — shocked, — that's  the  reason  I  was  not 
myself. 

FANCHON.  [After  a  moment]  But  JANE,  we 
thought  that  Carl  Bently  was — 

JANE.  Nothing  to  me.  This  is  only  too  true. 
The  Carl  of  today  is  a  stranger  to  me,  the  Carl 
that  was,  I  love,  did  love,  and  always  shall.  You 
all  know  that  we  cared  for  each  other  from  the 
first.  We  were  so  happy.  Then  he  had  to  go 
away, — abroad — to  make  his  fortune.  How  I 
prayed  and  hoped  for  his  success.  Then,  one  day 
I  heard  strange  news — things  that  were  unworthy 
of  him.  I  thought  they  would  break  my  heart. 
He  came  home  at  last.  I  rushed  up  to  meet 
him,  full  of  terrified  doubts,  great  hopes  and  sad 
fears.  He  could  not  look  at  me.  Oh,  it  was 
terrible.  "It's  no  use",  he  said,  "I've  fallen 


THERE  'E  ALWAYS  A  REASON       73 

below  your  standard.  I'm  not  good  enough  for 
you — I'm  not  good  enough."  That  was  all — 
the  very  end  of  my  little  love  affair.  [tremulous- 
It's  rather  pathetic  isn't  it?  [EDITH  fondles 
her.] 

KATE.  The  poor  thing.  [  vehemently]  Oh 
these  men!  [After  a  moment,  she  starts  ex 
citedly  to  serve  JANE  a  cup  of  tea. — Next  mo 
ment  the  bell  rings.] 

[Enter  BELL  and  GRACE.    They  shake  hands 
with  the  others  and  exchange  greetings.] 
EDITH.     Welcome,  I'm  so  glad  that  you  could 
come. 

GRACE.  Don't  mention  it.  Say  have  you 
heard  the  news  about  Eugene  and  Howard! 
Perfectly  shocking! 

ALL.     What  is  it? 

GRACE.  They've  absconded,  both  of  them. 
Perfectly  atrocious.  It  seems  they'd  been  plan 
ning  on  this  terrible  deed  for  months  and  months. 

ALL.     [Shocked]  No! 

GRACE.  And  they  had  cleverly  enticed  the 
money  out  of  several  of  their  patrons,  and  then 
straightway  used  it  for  some  enterprises  of  the 
worst  character  possible.  Simply  dreadful! 

KATE.     Just  like  men. 

GRACE.  Indeed  yes.  Now  believe  me,  I  un 
derstand  men.  In  my  time  I've  had  a  couple 


74       THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON 

of  little  affairs  of  the  heart  that  promised  to  be 
romantic,  but  the  men  proved  absolutely  impos 
sible.  They're  so  jealous  of  each  other  and 
everybody  else.  They  don't  try  to  cultivate  the 
higher  qualities,  and  I  must  say  I  couldn't  make 
a  constant  companion  of  a  person  who  is  con 
tinually  jealous,  spiteful  and  gossipy.  It  would 
be  perfectly  impossible. 

BELLE.  Say  GRACE,  come  here  a  moment. 
[They  ivisper  together.] 

GRACE.  Say  girls,  she  wants  me  to  tell  you 
about  Emma  Snyder.  We  met  her  down  town. 

ALL.     You  did? 

GRACE.  Yes.  I  was  standing  down  at  Alle- 
^rretti's  when  I  suddenly  felt  aware  of  the  fact 
that  someone  was  studying  me  carefully.  It  was 
Emma.  She  began  with  the  tip  of  my  shoes 
and  then  inspected  every  other  part  of  my  dress 
and  person  in  due  order.  Finally  she  reached 
my  eyes,  and  well, — that  completed  her  inspec 
tion. 

BELLE.  That's  just  like  Emma,  girls.  Why 
do  you  know  what  Aunt  Carrie  said  once  about 
her?  You  know  Aunt  Carrie  was  always  noted 
for  the  clever  things  she  said  and  she  deserved 
the  credit.  Well  when  Aunt  Carrie  was  young 
she  went  to  boarding  school.  There  she  learned 
a  great  deal  about  men, — decorum  and  such 


THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON       75 

things.     It  was  there  you  know,  that  she  heard 
the  famous  rule:  Girls  must  always  know  when 
to  talk  and  when  to  be  silent,  or  they  wont  give 
the  man  a  chance.    And  so  of  course  it  is — 
[The  bell  rings.] 
[Enter  IDA,  HELEN  and  SUSAN-] 

EDITH.  Everyone's  here  now.  Glad  to  see 
you  HELEN, — IDA,  and  you  SUSAN.  I  've  brought 
you  all  here  to  tell  you  a  wonderful  secret. 

IDA.  Secret!  Speaking  of  secrets,  let  me 
tell  you  one. 

ALL.     What  is  it? 

IDA.  I  had  a  delightful  flirtation  on  the  way 
down  here.  A  handsome  fellow,  well  groomed, 
with  an  air.  Ah  it  was  fascinating.  Oh,  I 
could  go  through  life  flirting  and  flirting  and 
flirting.  I  never  could  marry.  One  man  would 
bore  me  so. 

EDITH.  How  can  you.  Don't  you  know  that 
the  right  man,  the  man  you  really  love  is  a  never- 
ending  source  of  change,  interest  and  happiness  ? 
Those  who  really  love  each  other  are  continually 
discovering  new  talents,  new  beauties  and  pur- 
oses — 

IDA.  How  you  philosophize.  But  have  your 
way.  I'd  rather  practice  on  twenty  men  than 
theorize  on  one. 


76       THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON 

SUSAN.  I  don't  see  how  you  can  talk  about 
men  any  way.  They're  all  right,  of  course,  in 
their  place,  but  they  are  certainly  in  the  way 
when  one  really  wants  to  accomplish  something. 
Now  I  have  my  art,  my  paints  and  my  palette. 
I  want  to  do  great  things,  unhampered, — free. 
"Why  I  wouldn't  marry  the  best  man  living. 

HELEN.  Nor  would  I.  [affectedly]  Litera 
ture  is  the  great  inspiring  element  of  my  life. 
I  have  my  career,  iny  books,  my  poems,  my 
papers.  That  is  sufficient.  Why  even  now  I  am 
writing  a  great  novel  from  real  life.  It's  all 
about  Eugene  Wilson  and  Howard  Smith, — their 
defection,  misdeeds  and  how  they  escaped  from 
justice. 

BELLE.  I  tell  you,  no  book  could  do  them 
justice.  Those  men  ought  to  be  tarred  and 
feathered. 

KATE.  That's  too  good  for  them.  Such  a 
terrible  theft  is  without  precedent. 

IDA-  I  never  would  have  thought  it.  They 
seemed  too  nice  looking  to  be  so  wicked. 

JANE.     I  hear  this  is  not  the  first  offense. 

SUSAN.  No  they  hint  at  still  more  awful 
things. 

GRACE.  They  say  they  have  gone  through 
the  entire  catalogue  of  crime. 

ALL.     Shocking 


THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON       77 

Unbelieveable 

Perfectly  horrible     [ad.  lib.] 
Beyond  words 
Crimes,  crimes. 

[At  the  left  meanwhile  a  little  pantomime 
occurs  between  FANCHON  and  RUTH,  who 
are  trying  to  persuade  EDITH  to  do  some 
thing.  Finally  they  gently  push  her  for 
ward.] 

EDITH.     [Watches    them   all   a   moment   and 
says  finally]    Listen,  please  listen,  my  friends. 
I  have  asked  you  to  come  here  to  tell  of  a  secret 
this  evening.    Do  you  care  to  hear  it? 
KATE.     Yes,  certainly. 
GRACE.     I'm  wild  to  hear  it. 
IDA.     And  I 
HELEN.     And  I 

ALL.     [Talking  at  once]  The  Secret. 
EDITH.     I  was  beginning  to  fear  you  did  not 
care  to  hear  it.    And  it  is  so  wonderful  and  will 
mean  so  much  to  everyone  of  us.     It  is  simply 
this :  the  scientific  way  to  secure  all — 

BELLE.     Pardon  me,  EDITH,  what  time  is  it? 
EDITH.     A  quarter  to  five. 
BELLE.     Oh  so  late.     I  had  no  idea  it  was  so 
late.    I  must  be  going. 
JANE.     I  must  too. 


78       THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON 

IDA.  And  I,  or  I'll  keep  my  dressmaker  wait 
ing. 

SUSAN.     Yes,  and  I  must  take  my  lesson. 

HELEN.  Oh  I  have  to  meet  the  mission  com 
mittee. 

KATE.  Mercy !  And  I  must  go  to  a  mother 's 
meeting. 

BELLE.  [To  GRACE]  Hurry  GRACE  or  well 
miss  the  car. 

GRACE.     [Rushing  out]  Perfectly  fierce. 
[All  exit  in  haste,  talking  and  laughing.} 

EDITH.  [With  a  gasp]  There!  They're  all 
gone.  And  they  didn't  even  wait  to  hear  the 
secret.  No  wonder  they're  old  maids,  every 
single  one  of  them,  [with  a  start  as  she  sees 
FANCHON  and  RUTH  watching  her  at  left]  Oh 
please  forgive  me,  my  dears.  Really  I  didn't 
mean  you  girls,  you  're  different. 

RUTH.  That's  all  right  dear.  We're  en 
gaged. 

FANCHON.     Yes,  both  of  us. 

EDITH.     Engaged  ? 

FANCHON.  Yes. — We  couldn't  have  listened 
so  calmly,  you  know,  if  we  hadn't  been. 

EDITH.     To  whom? 

FANCHON.     Eugene  Wilson. 

RUTH.     Howard  Smith. 

EDITH.     What!    to  them? 


THERE'S  ALWAYS  A  REASON       79 

FANCHON.  Yes,  they  are  really  all  right,  in 
spite  of  all  the  scandal  you  just  heard  about  them. 

RUTH.  You  see  we  wanted  to  explain  to  you, 
but  didn't  get  a  chance.  All  this  has  been 
caused  by  their  selling  out.  They  have  gone  into 
business  together, — mining.  One  of  those  sud 
den  great  opportunities. 

&&PEL.  They  are  both  in  California  now  look 
ing  over  the  mine.  Isn't  it  splendid? 

EDITH.  [Grasps  their  hands]  Just  splendid. 
Tell  me  all  about  it, — all  the  particulars,  [they 
start  to  exit]  It  is  such  a  complete  surprise.  Oh, 
tell  me,  at  once,  when  will  you  have  your  wed 
dings?  [Exeunt  talking.] 


Sobel,E 

Three  plays. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


